Part 17

"It can hardly be necessary for me to confirm anything stated by my brother," said Miss Murdstone; "but I beg to observe, that, of all the boys in the world, I believe this is the worst boy."

"Strong!" said my aunt, shortly.

"But not at all too strong for the facts," returned Miss Murdstone.

"Ha!" said my aunt. "Well, sir?"

"Upon the death of his mother," continued Mr. Murdstone, scowling, "I obtained a respectable place for him--"

"Was it the sort of place you would have put a boy of your own in?" asked my aunt.

"If he had been my brother's own boy," returned Miss Murdstone, striking in, "his character, I trust, would have been altogether different."

"Or if the poor child, his mother, had been alive, he would still have gone into the respectable business, would he?" said my aunt.

"I believe," said Mr. Murdstone, with a nod of his head, "that Clara would have disputed nothing which myself and my sister were agreed was for the best."

"Humph!" said my aunt. "Well, sir, what next?"

"Merely this, Miss Trotwood," he returned. "I am here to take David back--to take him back unconditionally, and to deal with him as I think right. I am not here to make any promise to anybody. You may possibly have some idea, Miss Trotwood, of abetting him in his running away. Your manner induces me to think it possible. Now I must caution you that if you abet him once, you abet him for good and all. I cannot trifle, or be trifled with. I am here, for the first and last time, to take him away. Is he ready to go? If he is not, my doors are shut against him henceforth, and yours, I take it for granted, are opened to him."

To this address my aunt had listened with the closest attention, sitting perfectly upright, with her hands folded on one knee, and looking grimly on the speaker. When he had finished, she turned her eyes so as to command Miss Murdstone, and said,

"Well, ma'am, have you got anything to remark?"

"Indeed, Miss Trotwood," said Miss Murdstone, "all that I could say has been so well said by my brother, that I have nothing to add except my thanks for your politeness."

This ironical remark, however, was wholly lost.

"And what does the boy say?" said my aunt. "Are you ready to go, David?"

I answered no, and entreated her not to let me go. I said that neither Mr. nor Miss Murdstone had ever liked me, or had ever been kind to me. That they had made my mamma, who always loved me dearly, unhappy about me, and that I knew it well, and that Peggotty knew it. And I begged and prayed my aunt--I forget in what terms now, but I remember that they affected me very much then--to befriend and protect me, for my father's sake.

"Mr. Dick," said my aunt, "what shall I do with this child?"

"Have him measured for a suit of clothes, directly," said Mr. Dick, in his usual sudden way.

"Mr. Dick," said my aunt, triumphantly, "give me your hand, for your common sense is invaluable."

Having shaken it with great cordiality, she pulled me towards her, and said to Mr. Murdstone:

"You can go when you like; I'll take my chance with the boy. If he's all you say he is, at least I can do as much for him then as you have done. But I don't believe a word of it."

"Miss Trotwood," rejoined Mr. Murdstone, shrugging his shoulders, as he rose, "if you were a gentleman--"

"Bah! stuff and nonsense!" said my aunt. "Don't talk to me!"

"How exquisitely polite!" exclaimed Miss Murdstone, rising. "Overpowering, really!"

"Do you think I don't know," said my aunt, turning a deaf ear to the sister, and continuing to address the brother, and to shake her head at him, "what kind of life you must have led that poor, little woman you cajoled into marrying you? Do you think I don't know what a woeful day it was for her and her boy when _you_ first came in her way?"

And thereupon she read him such a lecture as I warrant he had never listened to before in his life, nor ever would again. He bit his lip in silence while she lectured, and all the color left his face. Miss Murdstone tried to interrupt the flow of words repeatedly, with no success at all. When she had ended--

"Good day, sir," said my aunt, "and good-bye! Good day to you, too, ma'am," turning suddenly upon his sister. "Let me see you ride a donkey over _my_ green again, and as sure as you have a head upon your shoulders, I'll knock your bonnet off, and tread upon it!"

It would require a painter, and no common painter too, to depict my aunt's face as she delivered herself of this very unexpected sentiment, and Miss Murdstone's face as she heard it. But the manner of the speech, no less than the matter, was so fiery, that Miss Murdstone, without a word in answer, discreetly put her arm through her brother's, and walked haughtily out of the cottage; my aunt remaining in the window looking after them, prepared, I have no doubt, to carry her threat into instant execution.

No attempt at defiance being made, however, her face gradually relaxed, and became so pleasant that I was emboldened to kiss and thank her; which I did with great heartiness, and with both my arms clasped round her neck. I then shook hands with Mr. Dick, who shook hands with me a great many times, and hailed this happy close of the proceedings with repeated bursts of laughter.

"You'll consider yourself guardian, jointly with me, of this child, Mr. Dick," said my aunt.

"I shall be delighted," said Mr. Dick, "to be the guardian of David's son."

"Very good," returned my aunt, "that's settled. I have been thinking, do you know, Mr. Dick, that I might call him Trotwood?"

"Yes, to be sure. Trotwood Copperfield," said Mr. Dick.

My aunt took so kindly to the notion, that some ready-made clothes, which were purchased for me the next day, were marked "Trotwood Copperfield," in her own handwriting, and in indelible marking-ink, before I put them on.

Thus I began my new life, in a new name, and with everything new about me. Now that the state of doubt was over, I felt, for many days, like one in a dream. I never thought that I had a curious couple of guardians in my aunt and Mr. Dick. I never thought of anything about myself, distinctly. While a remoteness had come upon the old life--which seemed to lie in the haze of an immeasurable distance.

In my new life I was to realize some of my youthful ambitions. I was to struggle, perhaps, but I was to succeed. And I was to find that my aunt--for all her gruff exterior--had a heart of gold.

But whatever there was of happiness or of sorrow, of success or of failure, in my new life, does not belong to these pages. The identity of the child, and of the boy, David Copperfield, is now forever merged in the personality of Trotwood Copperfield, Esquire, the Prospective Man.

* * * * * * * *

*THE "SILVER FOX FARM" SERIES*

BY JAMES OTIS

*THE WIRELESS STATION AT SILVER FOX FARM.*

Illustrated by Charles Copeland. 8vo.

A bright, vividly written narrative of the adventures of Paul Simpson and Ned Bartlett in helping the former's father start a farm for raising silver foxes on Barren Island, twelve miles off the Maine coast.

*THE AEROPLANE AT SILVER FOX FARM.*

Illustrated by Charles Copeland. 8vo.

An absorbing story of the building and working of an aeroplane on Barren Island.

*BUILDING AN AIRSHIP AT SILVER FOX FARM.*

Illustrated by Charles Copeland. 8vo.

Encouraged by their success in aeroplane-building, the boys of Silver Fox Farm go in for a full-fledged airship.

*AIRSHIP CRUISING FROM SILVER FOX FARM.*

Illustrated by Charles Copeland. 8vo.

A further account of the marvels performed by the Silver Fox Farmers, including the story of the thrilling rescue of a shipwrecked yachting party by means of their great air-cruiser.

*BOY SCOUT BOOKS*

*BOY SCOUTS IN THE MAINE WOODS. BOY SCOUTS IN A LUMBER CAMP.*

12mo, illustrated.

OTHER BOOKS BY JAMES OTIS

*FOUND BY THE CIRCUS.*

12mo, illustrated.

*Joel Hurford Joey at the Fair Two Stowaways*

12mo, illustrated.

*A Short Cruise How the Twins Captured a Hessian Aunt Hannah and Seth How Tommy Saved the Barn Our Uncle the Major Christmas at Deacon Hackett's*

8vo, illustrated.

*Dorothy's Spy*

12mo, illustrated.

*THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY NEW YORK*

* * * * *

*THE BAR B SERIES*

By EDWIN L. SABIN

*BAR B BOYS;*

OR, THE YOUNG COW-PUNCHERS

A picturesque story of Western ranch life. Illustrated by Charles Copeland.

*RANGE AND TRAIL*

The Bar B Boys in winter and on the long trail from New Mexico to the home ranch. Illustrated by Clarence Rowe.

*CIRCLE K;*

OR, FIGHTING FOR THE FLOCK

The ranchmen are here engaged in the sheep industry, and the story has the same real Western flavor. Illustrated by Clarence Rowe.

*OLD FOUR-TOES;*

OR, HUNTERS OF THE PEAKS

The two boys, Phil and Chet, Grizzly Dan and others, figure in this fascinating account of hunting, trapping, and Indian encounters. Illustrated by Clarence Rowe.

*TREASURE MOUNTAIN;*

OR, THE YOUNG PROSPECTORS

Tells of the locating of an old gold mine near the top of a mountain peak. One of the liveliest books in the series. Illustrated by Clarence Rowe.

*SCARFACE RANCH;*

OR, THE YOUNG HOMESTEADERS

Two young heroes here take up some government land and engage most successfully in cattle raising on their own account. Illustrated by Clarence Rowe.

*Each Volume 8vo, cloth.*

Also by MR. SABIN

*PLUCK ON THE LONG TRAIL;*

OR, BOY SCOUTS IN THE ROCKIES

A stirring narrative of packing, trailing, and camping In the West. Illustrated by Clarence Rowe. 12mo, cloth.

*THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY NEW YORK*